I Hate You I Love You
by Indieblue
Summary: "Sighing, she brought the fag to her lips, taking a deep breath, feeling it fill her lungs, before she lowered the fag. Moments later she lazily breathed out, the smoke drifting out of her mouth. The main thing she wished she could have was her best friend, but in his eyes she was nothing more than just that, his know-it-all best friend." - Harmony, short series.
1. The Only Way

**So I was inspired to do this when my dear friend laisvega suggested an angsty Harmony fic would perfectly fit a song that we both love. I hate u I love u by Gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien.**

 **This is my first time attempting to write this pairing, so hopefully I pull it off.**

 **Originally I had just meant for this to be a drabble...but as per usual I get way too carried away, and I think this will probably end up being a ficlet. When I'll post the rest of it, I have no idea, either way, I hope you enjoy it!**

 **My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line is mine.**

* * *

 _Still missing you_

 _And I can't_

 _See the end of this_

 _Just wanna feel your kiss_

 _Against my lips_

 _And now all this time_

 _Is passing by_

 _But I still can't seem to tell you why_

 _It hurts me every time I see you_

 _Realize how much I need you_

 _I hate you I love you_

 _I hate that I love you_

 _Don't want to, but I can't put_

 _Nobody else above you_

 _I hate you I love you_

 _I hate that I want you_

 _You want her, you need her_

* * *

It was a rather cold, wet and overall dreary day. However it was still the early morning hours, the sun hadn't risen yet, and from the thick fog smothering the city, she highly doubted you would be able to tell either way.

A white, wide, ceramic mug was resting on the small, glass top table beside the mocha skinned, curly haired woman; her hand was loosely holding the warm mug, in her other hand was resting on her chair's thin armrest. Her wrist was limp, and a wisp of smoke from the burning tip of her fag blew away, and blended into the fog surrounding her.

As she did most mornings, she came out onto her small balcony of the flat she had managed to acquire in Wizarding London, she smoked a cigarette-a habit she had picked up in the last few months, one that Molly complained about, and Sirius encouraged, because it meant he had a smoking buddy-and drank a cup of tea.

All whilst contemplating things she wished she could change, and things she desperately wanted to come to fruition; no matter how much she knew she could never have those things.

Sighing, she brought the fag to her lips, taking a deep breath, feeling it fill her lungs, before she lowered the fag. Moments later she lazily breathed out, the smoke drifting out of her mouth.

The main thing she wished she could have was her best friend, but in his eyes she was nothing more than just that, his know-it-all best friend.

 _Yes. That kiss was simply a mistake. It's why he's with Ginny and not me,_ Hermione thought bitterly.

Hermione still went to dinner at the Burrow, but she ensured she was never alone with the Boy Who Lived. It would hurt too much. Ginny and Harry could often be seen out and about, the reporters hounded the Golden Trio constantly whenever they went anywhere.

Ron had revelled in it at first, thriving with all the attention, but he too tired of it when he couldn't even go get a pint in the Leaky Cauldron without someone interrupting his alone time.

Harry of course _abhorred_ all the attention, which is why he made sure to keep a low profile. Which was made easier by the fact that he was spending most of his time at Hogwarts; he was going to apprentice under Remus-who was resuming the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Hermione had yet to find something she wanted to do, she knew she was expected to take up a job at the Ministry, but she found herself spending more time at St. Mungo's helping out.

Which led her to be friendly with Draco Malfoy. Who was a Healer in training, and he was given most of the grunt work by the older Healers; who clearly hoped that the immense workload they had thrust upon him would make him give up.

Ron didn't approve of Draco too much, but he had still joined Hermione, Draco, Blaise and Theo for a drink in Muggle London a month back. Ron had been flabbergasted that the former Slytherins would deign to go into a Muggle establishment.

To which Theo drawled in a cool tone, "well it's decent alcohol, and at least everyone isn't staring at us like we're going to pluck their children from their arms and gut them in front of their eyes." There had been a tense moment of silence before they all broke into an easy bout of laughter. Since then Ron had accompanied them on a few other outings, and they all seemed to get along just fine.

The Prophet often referred to her as 'The Fallen Golden Girl,' since Rita _freaking_ Skeeter liked to comment on her new friends, saying she was shacking up with not only one but three of Britain's wealthiest wizards. "Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World apparently was not enough to sate her lust."

Blaise once asked her if she wanted him to get rid of Skeeter, but she had merely patted his cheek and said she would deal with the wretched woman herself. When the time was right.

Hermione leaned back her head and looked up at the blue grey sky, taking another drag from her cigarette. Wondering how she had gotten to the point in her life when she didn't see or speak to Harry or Ginny as often, and she was friends with her former 'enemies'.

Draco had quietly asked her once as they changed a set of bedding in one of the private wards, "why did you give me a chance, Granger?"

Hermione had fixed him with a serious stare and merely responded with, "because you were a boy. A scared boy, who had little choice in what he could do since his circumstance and upbringing provided him with little to no wiggle room." She had then frowned, "really Draco, you call that a hospital corner?"

Hermione sighed softly, closing her eyes and letting her mind wander. Wander back to _that_ day.

 _It was cold, too cold. No amount of warming charms, layers or thick blankets seemed to have any effect on their frigid surroundings._

 _Hermione was bundled up, only her eyes peeking out from the blanket she had curled up in._

 _She had had trouble sleeping the last few nights, and she felt like this night would be no different. Ron leaving had dampened Harry and her spirits, and she found herself wishing she could help Harry in some way._

 _It really didn't help that her dreams were filled with the other current occupant in the tent._

 _As of late, she would sit at their table, her tea getting cold beside her, and just stare at Harry for hours. She delved into research to help distract herself, but she still caught herself watching Harry as he moved to and fro listlessly._

 _Tonight however she knew as much as she wished it, Harry would not be joining her in her bundle of blankets in her cot._

 _She had almost drifted off when she heard a bang, a muttered curse and then light footsteps. Harry? She asked herself, wriggling out of her blankets enough for her to sit up, peering into the darkness._

 _She almost jumped out of her skin when a soft voice from the shadows next to her cot said, "Hermione."_

 _"Fu-" Hermione began, jumping backwards, but her legs were still tightly wrapped in blankets, so she landed funny._

 _Then a bright light was shining in her face, and she squinted past it to see Harry's worried face, brow knitted together._

 _"Harry, what in Godric's name-" Hermione hissed, throwing her blankets off of her, "did something happen?"_

 _Harry rubbed at the back of his neck, and his worried expression melted into a sheepish one, "I-uh…"_

 _Hermione patiently waited, sitting up now, giving him her full and undivided attention._

 _"I was really cold...and I imagined you couldn't be much warmer and I...well…" Harry trailed off, and she could barely see the blush tinging his cheeks. Then it all clicked into place and she understood completely what he meant._

 _"C'mon, climb in," Hermione said softly, turning the other way, hoping that in the poor light he couldn't see the pink that had rushed to her cheeks, or hear how her breath caught in her throat thinking about how his larger body was going to pressed up against hers. Really, most of all, she hoped her couldn't hear her thundering heartbeat._

 _That night Hermione wanted to say she had slept terribly, but at some point during the night Harry had thrown his arm across her body and she hadn't felt this safe in months. She fell asleep bathed in warmth and that night she didn't mind Harry visiting her dreams._

 _She never wanted it to end, the feeling of him wrapped around her, his chest and front pressed up against the back of her. His gentle breathing tickling her neck since she had thrown her unruly curls into a bun on top of her head. In that moment Hermione knew she was in love with her best friend._

 _The next morning, feeling brave and unsure simultaneously as she woke up to Harry's warm smile, and bright green eyes, since he had take off his glasses; she had moved without thinking and gently kissed him._

 _At first he didn't respond, stunned she would imagine, but then his strong arms were pulling her closer, and his tongue had easily slid into mouth, and she couldn't believe what was happening._

 _Then before she knew what was happening, his warmth was gone, his lips, his body, all of it. Leaving her cold and alone. She shifted so that she was sitting on the cot, drawing her knees to her chest, and Harry was standing in front of her, panting slightly._

 _"I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," Harry said quickly, averting his gaze. She had never felt so empty before. She had a bright warmth filling her insides moments prior, and now all that was left was a frigid hollowness that she loathed with every piece of her._

 _Then he was turning away, and hurriedly walking away._

"I wonder, if I had followed him...if it would have changed anything," Hermione murmured to herself, scratching her thigh absently.

After that they just pretended it never happened, and then Ron was back, and things were better. Their kiss was never mentioned after that, neither of them daring to utter a word about it.

"Morning," a voice said sleepily behind her, and Hermione didn't bother turning to see who it was. Even though she had tensed instantly, her eyes darting to where her wand lay on the table.

"How's your head, Ron?" Hermione asked, wincing as he dragged the other chair on the balcony closer to the table, the legs scraping against the tiles.

"Better than when I woke up. What time is it?" Ron asked groggily, and she angled her head towards him, feeling the cool metal of the top of the chair against her temple.

The ginger haired man's cheeks and chin were covered in rough stubble, and his face was in his hands as he leaned back in his chair.

"Still before seven in the morning, which means you got about three or four hours of sleep. Which is amazing considering the hangover you have to be nursing," Hermione pursed her lips sympathetically.

"Sod off...I'm going back to bed," Ron groaned, almost falling over when he stood up again. "Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way," Ron smiled weakly, looking at her with slightly bloodshot eyes.

"No problem, Ron," Hermione smirked, "I'm just glad you didn't puke all over my floor."

"Remind me never to challenge Nott to a drinking game again," Ron muttered as he pushed open the sliding door, and headed back inside. Hermione snorted. That was bloody likely, it was as if the four boys had adjusted their childhood animosity to that of a bit of healthy competition.

Ron had shown up last night, completed sloshed, and mumbling how pretty he thought Padma Patil was. He was going to ask her out the next time she came into the shop (he was helping out the twins at the moment, not quite positive what he wanted to do career wise). Hermione had rolled her eyes, then helped inside, helping him undress, leaving him passed out in his underwear on her bed. She slept on the couch.

Once more Hermione was left alone, and she figured it was probably about time she swallowed her pride, and hurt feelings and at least let Harry know how she felt. Hermione scowled, no, that was a horrible idea. He had Ginny, and it would only make things awkward and uncomfortable if she professed her feelings for him now. No.

Hermione thought they would dwindle even slightly since it had been months now, almost a year since their kiss. Yet the brilliant, all-consuming warmth she had felt that night only smacked her across the face whenever she saw him, only for it to be snuffed when she saw him and Ginny conversing about Quidditch and other topics after dinner was done on Sundays.

One time she had brought Theo-because he had commented that he'd never been to anything with a lot of family before, he had been terribly shocked by the boisterous crowd he spent the evening with-and she swore she saw Harry glare at Theo, but chalked that up to wishful thinking on her part.

 _No_ , Hermione thought sadly, she would simply have to bury these feelings deep inside herself or try and move on. It was the only way.


	2. It's Best for Everyone

**Hello my lovelies! I've gotten such a positive response from this story and it makes my little heart burst with happiness.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews! They've made me so happy, I'll try and respond to them when I find the chance!**

 **My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me.**

 **This chapter is for my dear friend disillusionist9 *hearts* I LOVE YOU MY RARE PAIR QUEEN!**

* * *

 _Just wanna feel your kiss_

 _Against my lips_

 _And now all this time_

 _Is passing by_

 _But I still can't seem to tell you why_

 _It hurts me every time I see you_

 _Realize how much I need you_

* * *

"Harry?" a voice murmured from underneath the mountain of blankets that were piled on top of his bed.

The weather was pretty similar to how it had been all week-dreary, gloomy and wet. Harry peered out of the window, the rough fabric of the cream curtains was grasped in between his fingers, pulled away just enough so that he could see past the foggy window out into the even foggier streets.

His lips twisted wryly as he watched two water droplets on the window race each other from the top to the bottom of the window pane.

Sighing he let go of the curtain, and glanced over his shoulder. In the dim light he saw that she had pushed the sheets off of her face, and they were folded over, reaching just below her ribcage. Her arms were stretched above her head, fingers lightly touching the dark-stained, oak headboard.

Harry turned around, and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall beside the window.

"Morning, Gin," Harry smiled softly.

"Morning," Ginny yawned, her ginger hair spread out across the light yellow sheets-her choice.

Harry pushed off of the wall, and headed across the room, bare feet padding against the light wood floors.

When he reached the bed, he sat on the edge facing Ginny, one hand on her thigh, the bed creaking slightly under his weight.

"Is Stori coming over today?" Harry asked softly. After watching the bright smile light up across Ginny's features-so much so that her eyes were shining with happiness, Harry found himself smiling.

"She is," Ginny said warmly, her nose crinkling up with joy.

"You know someone is going to figure it out eventually," Harry pointed out, patting Ginny's leg firmly.

"I don't care...it's just...Stori's Dad," Ginny whispered lowly, and Harry nodded. They had talked about this a few times before.

Mister Greengrass didn't have any sons, so marrying his daughters off to wealthy wizards and forming house alliances was all that concerned him after the War. He also wasn't directly involved with the Dark Lord so their family name hadn't been tarnished.

Astoria felt terrible about having to keep their relationship a secret, lying to her parents about where she was half the time. The rest of her time was spent attending exorbitant parties with poofy, elaborate dresses, fake smiles and getting paraded in front of several suitable Pureblood boys that her Father had handpicked.

"I know, love," Harry sighed. He knew how much it hurt Ginny and Astoria to hide their relationship, and he really wished there was something he could do, but he knew at the end of the day that it wasn't his place to step in.

Harry squeezed her thigh before getting up, heading for the comfy, jade green, leather upholstered armchair in the corner of the room. His boots were haphazardly lying beside it.

Harry and Ginny had gotten a flat together mainly because neither of them wanted to be alone after the War. Both with their own demons and troubles plaguing them. Most nights when Astoria didn't sleep over, Ginny and Harry shared a bed because it helped when there was another person there to help battle away their night terrors.

It was also helped hide Astoria and Ginny's relationship, since if it seemed like Harry and the ginger haired girl were in a relationship then less attention would be paid to her and Astoria's goings and comings.

They had never told the Prophet they were together, people had just assumed, and neither of them had corrected the reporters on their blunder.

Harry sat down, exhaling deeply as he reached for his boots.

"Have you heard from Hermione lately?" Ginny asked curiously, lips pursed.

"She's spends most of her time with her new friends, didn't you know?" Harry muttered under his breath bitterly, brow furrowed.

"Did you say something, Harry?" Ginny asked, pushing herself up onto her forearms.

"No, I haven't," Harry responded tightly, bracing his hands on his knees before standing up, wiping his palms across the sides of his jeans.

"Do you need me to pick anything up on my way home?" Harry asked, deciding to change the subject. If Ginny noticed his aversion to speaking about their beloved curly haired friend, she didn't comment.

It seemed that Ginny up until that point hadn't noticed he was fully dressed.

"Wait, where are you going?" Ginny's brow knitted together, "it can't be even eight yet."

"It's seven forty-nine actually," Harry said with a twist of his lips, as he checked his watch on his left wrist. Astoria had given it to him as a birthday gift, it wasn't too fancy. Two clock hands, roman numerals around the circumference of the clock face, and a plain, thin, black strap.

"You should go see Hermione if you find time, Harry," Ginny said as she flopped back onto his sheets. Last night she'd had a particularly nasty nightmare, and had silently crawled into his bed, he'd woken up violently, high on alert until he noticed who it was. Without a word, he had gathered her into his arms and they both quickly slipped back into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Harry smiled tightly before twisted around to grab his coat and scarf from where they were thrown over the back of the armchair.

"If I can," Harry said, his strained smile turning into a genuine one when he noticed that Ginny had fallen asleep again.

Harry had no intention of following through with the notion of visiting his best mate. Could he really call her that anymore? He asked himself as he shut their flat door behind him, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets after slipping his keys into his right coat pocket; they were fairly deep pockets, and a quick silencing charm stopped them from jingling and interrupting his thoughts.

Hermione and Harry hadn't spent any significant time together in months, not how they used to at least. _We barely talk now_ , Harry thought sourly as he exited their building, walking out onto the wet and bitterly cold sidewalk. A quick look around to grasp his surroundings confirmed his suspicions, there weren't a lot of people around, it was the weekend and a miserable day, it made sense that there weren't more people outside.

Exhaling, Harry saw his hot breath form in front of him, and join the fog that surrounded him.

Tapping his left foot against the sidewalk he set out on his way, hugging his arms to his side to try and keep as warm as possible.

Harry scolded himself about the morning where instead of hugging Hermione, and telling her she was one of the best things that had ever happened to him in his unfortunate life-he had run away.

Harry snorted to himself, _where was my Gryffindor courage then?_

Harry moved to the left of the sidewalk as a nervous looking woman, spindly with thin fingers and dark brown hair gave him a strange look. He doubted she recognised him, she was probably staring at his scar, which was on full display since his hair had parted at the front.

 _Then there's Nott...not to mention I'm pretty sure Hermione spends more time with Malfoy than me these days,_ Harry couldn't help the short, harsh bark of laughter that escaped his lips. Who knew the day would come when Hermione would be on better speaking terms with the blond Pureblood than him.

Harry kept trying to find an opportunity to speak to Hermione properly, but then the timing never seemed right. Plus he swore Hermione was avoiding him, or at least avoided being alone with him. Though he dismissed that as him being paranoid and over thinking.

Then came the rude wake up call in the form of one Theodore Nott. Dark curls, striking blue eyes, a jagged scar that travelled from his strong jaw to his temple, and a slightly crooked nose; he was lithe with a strong build.

Hermione brought him to dinner at the Weasleys a few weeks back, and had stuck to his side as if they were glued together.

It made an acidic, hateful feeling burn in the pit of his stomach, and he tried with everything he could to maintain a polite smile throughout lunch. Instead he turned to Ginny to talk about Quidditch, to get his mind off of the witch and wizard opposite him at the table; though he found his heart simply wasn't in it.

It was then that Harry noticed how caught up in his thoughts he had really been, as he saw that he had reached his destination.

Their flat wasn't too far away from the park, and he had a bench that he liked to sit down at in the mornings, or evenings sometimes, and simply take in his surroundings. It was peaceful and it helped him process his feelings and work through his jumbled thoughts.

 _No. I had to muck it all up,_ Harry sighed, heavily plopping down on his bench, wriggling his fingers in his jeans pockets, legs spread open slightly as he shifted and made himself comfortable. Ignoring the biting cold that had seeped into the bench and was now snapping at his bum.

"As long as she's happy," Harry murmured to himself, tipping his head to the sky.

Some days he thought he may tell her how he really felt, but it was a fanciful notion, and it would only push her farther away. He just knew it, he could feel it every time he was near her. She couldn't wait to get away from him.

She had Nott, and her new friends, heck she talked to Ron more than she talked to him.

He knew for a fact that Ron was even hanging out with the Slytherins. _Now isn't that a bizarre twist of events._

He _hated_ what their relationship had become, awkward conversations, deafening silences, shuffling feet and wringing hands. Neither of them ready to admit what they both clearly already knew.

 _No. I need to keep these feelings to myself. It's best for everyone,_ Harry sighed softly.

Harry closed his eyes, mind drifting back to the day when everything shifted. The day he wished he could change. Then with a bitter, metallic taste at the back of his throat, he slowly opened his eyes, only to be greeted with silvery blue eyes peering at him right in front of his own bright green ones.

"Godric-" Harry exclaimed, jumping back sharply, hitting his back against the metal, feeling the shock run down his spine. Hands flying out of his pockets as he reached for his wand in his left coat pocket. Only to freeze with his fingers hovering over the pocket, index finger brushing against the warm fabric.

"Hello Harry, I thought I'd find you here," the girl smiled airily, her crinkly pale hair piled messily on top of her head, the cold had caused her fair cheeks to turn a bright pink, her earrings jingling slightly as she cocked her head to the right.

Harry's eyes quickly darted up and down, examining her attire. She was wearing bright yellow leggings, a thin, plum, long-sleeved shirt and pink and red striped socks that she had pulled halfway up her shins.

"Luna?"

* * *

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	3. How Lovely

**Hello!**

 **This chapter has a bit of a different vibe to it than the last two, but hopefully you all like it. Plus I think I should mention now that everything between Hermione and her Slytherins is entirely platonic. I do hope you enjoy this chapter though!**

 **THANK YOU for all your lovely reviews, really, thank you!**

 **I am going to change the rating of this to M, just in case, and I figured I should mention that lol.**

 **My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me.**

* * *

The bitter cold nipped at his skin and he breathed in the frigid air.

Luna had happily sat beside him and her bare hands were gripping the metal lip of the bench as she kicked her multi-coloured socked feet back and forth.

"How have you been, Lu?" Harry asked, a small smile touching his lips.

"I've been in Romania for a few weeks, I had a wonderful encounter with Charlie Weasley...he has really nice hands-"

"Luna," Harry interjected, eyes wide, eyebrows disappearing into the mess of hair that was covering his forehead.

Luna didn't anything then, she just started humming a pleasant tune.

For the first time in a _very_ long time, Harry felt himself relaxing. There was just something about Luna. She simply understood, she didn't need to ask, and she never said anything she didn't mean.

"Luna?"

"Yes, Harry?" Luna turned her silvery blue eyes on him, smiling dreamily, her dirigible plum earrings jingling in her ears as she turned back towards him.

"How did you find me?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"Oh. Well I followed the trail of munpers," Luna said. Harry's eye twitched as he tried to recall if he had ever heard of the creatures, and a moment later he decided that he had in fact, _not,_ heard of said creatures...he simply shrugged.

"Fair enough," Harry exhaled heavily, letting his head fall back slightly as he looked at the dark clouds in the sky. "You been to see Gin yet?"

"No, I haven't actually, how are her and Astoria?" Luna hummed, tapping her finger on the metal, and it was only then that Harry noticed that Luna had drawn a cluster of bright, multi-coloured stars on the back of her hand.

"Good. Astoria has been pondering telling her Father about Ginny...but it's difficult from what I gather. He's a very no-nonsense man, and he wants to marry her off for a strong house alliance," Harry commented, wriggling his fingers in his coat pockets, the cold was creeping in.

"It'll be okay in the end. Mister Greengrass will come around," Luna smiled. "Now Harry."

"Yes Luna?"

"When are we going to talk about Hermione?"

"H-H-Hermione?" Harry sputtered, choking on an intake of air, sitting up properly, his arse hitting the back bench as he did.

"You like her don't you?" Luna asked airily.

"I...well...yes, but," Harry frowned deeply.

"How lovely," Luna clapped her hands together, jumping up from the bench. "This is wondrous news, Harry." Luna froze then, smile still firmly on her face when she tilted her head to the right. Listening intently. "Ah. It seems I am needed elsewhere, I'm so glad we got to have this chat, Harry," Luna grinned brightly.

"Me too," Harry smiled, utterly confused, but he stood up and he pulled the petite witch in for a brief hug regardless.

"Oh, that was very nice Harry," Luna giggled, as Harry released her. "I shall see you soon, and don't let the Nargles make your brain all fuzzy again, I got them to go away for now, but without due care and attention, they'll be back."

"We wouldn't want that," Harry said seriously, squeezing Luna's hand before she nodded cheerily, and with a light spin she began to skip away. Leaving a slightly dazed and confused man in her wake.

Harry let out a long, deep sigh, stomping his feet on the ground to try and regain some feeling in his legs; they had gone a touch numb and he was surprised he hadn't gotten pins and needles. _Now I'm a smidge more confused then when I left home,_ Harry thought with pursed lips. He decided then that the walk back would be crucial in helping sort out his thoughts, which is why-with a glance to his right, where he caught a glimpse of Luna's long hair before she disappeared-he set out again. He'd had enough excitement for one day.

* * *

"Fucking hell, Granger," Theo grumbled as Hermione pulled back the curtains in her guest bedroom.

The previous night, Ron had showed up again, but this time, he was not alone. Theo, Ron, Blaise and Draco had decided to go on a pub crawl, and for some strange reason, they had also decided to play drinking games.

She had managed to get them all into her guest bedroom without any major mishaps. With the exception that she found Blaise in _her_ bed the next morning, hugging her pillow, his back against hers. She had briefly wondered when she woke up why it felt so warm under her quilt.

"It's too early to be swearing, Theodore," Hermione smiled sweetly, walking over from the window where the weak light was filtering into the room. It wasn't a lot, but from what she had gathered the night before was that they all had gotten _highly_ intoxicated and they were now suffering from killer hangovers; any bit of light was offensive to them at the moment.

"I can swear all I fucking want, witch," Theo groaned, the heel of his palms pressed into his eyelids.

"Oi, behave, or I'll take away that water and Sober-Up potion I left on the bedside table for you," Hermione threatened, jerking her head towards the intricately carved, dark-stained oak bedside table. She had bought the pair from a vintage store in Muggle London, that specialised in selling reclaimed pieces.

"Not to mention the pot of coffee I have brewing," Hermione sang sweetly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know...if I didn't know you were in love with Potter...I would ask you to marry me," Theo smiled slowly, eyes still covered, but he was flashing his dazzling white smile, and she narrowed her eyes at the motion.

"Is that so?" Hermione asked wryly, dropping her hands to her side and walking to the foot of the bed, running her fingertips lightly across the sheets at the bottom, avoiding Draco's foot that was sticking out. The fair blond was still slumbering away peacefully, arms thrown up over his head, bangs in his eyes and she watched as his chest rose and fell.

"Actually, you want to forget the tosser and go on a proper date with me?" Theo asked, lifting his palms ever so slightly, peeking at her.

"Oh, Theo," Hermione laughed lightly. The Slytherin did know how to cheer her up, even hungover and with half his wits about him, he could tell something was bothering her. "Marry you, you say...you'd have to manage to acquire a date first, in order for me to even consider the proposal," Hermione smirked.

"What's wrong, Granger?" Theo moaned slightly as he sat up, his right hand pressed to his forehead as he leant on his elbow. His left eye closed, his right eye on her.

"I…" Hermione knew she had gotten close to the Slytherins, but opening up to them about her nightmares was territory they hadn't crossed into yet. She wasn't quite sure she was ready to bare herself to any of them like that yet.

Talking to Ron helped, but it was a bit more complicated with him. Ron preferred not to go too in depth with his feelings about the war, about the countless scars they both had, and he _especially_ did not like to talk about his night terrors. They had a silent agreement, they both just simply _knew_ when the other had had a bad night. Then Ron would open his arms, and Hermione would snuggle into his side and it helped.

The war was not something they talked about, and she had gotten so used to that; that the thought of sharing her innermost feelings about what had happened to them during the war, was such a foreign concept.

"I have them too," Theo said quietly, so softly that Hermione wondered if she had even heard him at all.

Hermione took in a small, shuddering breath. She was going to let someone in. The very thought scared her immensely, and she knew she shouldn't be making such a big deal about it, yet she felt like she was being consumed, drowning, for moment.

"Nightmares?" Hermione said in a tiny voice, walking back around the bed, sitting on the edge next to Theo.

"I did...I did terrible things, to survive…" Theo started, sighing when his piercing blue eyes both opened and met her warm brown ones.

"Theo," Hermione said softly, reaching out and clasping his pale hand in her mocha one.

"You were sixteen, you were a boy. You were backed against a wall with a shitty excuse for a Father," Hermione said firmly then, a fire in her eyes.

"That doesn't change the fact that I did those things, Granger. Doesn't change the fact that no matter how sorry I am, or that I was a scared _sixteen_ year old as you so kindly put it...that _they_ are never going to see us as more than evil, the bad guys," Theo said bitterly, eyes falling to look at their clasped hands.

"They are never going to see us as anything else than monsters," Theo finished.

"Fuck them," Hermione snarled, she wanted to set Rita Skeeter on fire, and watch the wretched creature go up in flames in front of her. In the last week alone she had written four articles mentioning Hermione or one of her boys. Draco said he would have bought the Prophet and then fired Skeeter if he could, but his vaults had been frozen.

Hermione was still working on getting the boy's vaults and belongings back to them, they didn't really have a home, and until Ron offered to let them crash at his flat, they had all been staying at the Leaky. Kingsley said there was nothing he could do at the moment, the Wizengamot was backed up with cases and trials, and it would be at least a couple more months before she could get anything put through.

She had subsequently set his desk on fire-charring a few documents and the such like-before she stormed out of his office, hair sparking, sending one of the interns flying when he had tried to calm her down.

As her luck would have it, Ginny was in the Ministry that day, and Hermione had pretended that the hustle of bustle of the other witches and wizards had drowned out her friend's voice. She didn't trust herself to keep her emotions in check around the ginger haired girl; so instead she ducked into a sea of busy, magical folk and she didn't dare look back.

"Granger?"

"Yes, Theo?"

"Can you...may...well," Theo rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, and Hermione ignored his flexing biceps, or the fact that he was shirtless.

"May I what?"

"Stay. At least for a little while," Theo said slowly, and she smiled softly at the request, knowing that he didn't ask for things very often, much less show any vulnerability.

"Of course, scooch over," Hermione commanded, and Theo narrowed his eyes at her, but after a long pause, he followed her instruction. Hermione rolled her eyes, but tucked herself into his side, and they both fell asleep again, fingers intertwined.

In Hermione's living room, a ginger haired wizard was smacking his lips together sleepily, one arm hanging off the couch-his long, lanky arm-his fingers were brushing the fluffy carpet.

Hermione had left the balcony door open when she came in from her morning ritual, thinking it would be a good idea to let in some fresh air in.

A snow white owl swooped straight into the living room, landing on the small table beside the couch where the slumbering man was, it cocked its' head to the side before letting out a short ' _hoo'._ The owl flapped its' wings and was hovering above the ginger man before it let the rolled up newspaper fall flat on his face. Ronald Weasley woke up with a start.

The owl however, promptly left the way it came, and Ron barelt caught a blurry glimpse of it before it disappeared into the thick fog that had rolled in. A light drizzle began to go _pitter patter_ against the windows, as he groggily sat up, rubbing absently at his eye, the paper falling into his lap. A splitting headache making the room spin slightly.

"What the-" Ron sighed, taking way longer than necessary to undo the simple knot that was around the paper. After he threw the damned string away with an affonted look, he glanced back at the paper. He decided immediately upon seeing the headline, that he was still dreaming or he that he _really_ shouldn't have taken a shot of the concoction Blaise had pushed in his direction the night before, or whatever green liquid Draco had given him.

Ron lazily tossed the paper back onto the coffee table and with a heavy plop, fell back onto the couch. His soft snores filling the room shortly thereafter.

At the top of the Daily Prophet, printed in thick, black letters was the headline, **Ginevra Weasley and Harry Potter's relationship a Scam?**

Then a photo was neatly placed beneath it, taking up nearly the entire front page. It was a picture of Ginny and Astoria.


	4. Run

**Hello, hello!**

 **I may have done something that you all may not exaactly like in this chapter. Sorry ish. Just a smidge. It wouldn't be any fun if sometimes people didn't do crazy things.**

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 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me.**

* * *

Grey skies, dark, stormy and heavy looking clouds looming over the city. It was still fairly dark outside despite it being midday, the fog was thicker than it had been all week.

Harry was lying back on his bed, feet dangling over the edge; he pushed himself up onto his forearms and grimaced at the sight before him.

Harry felt bad for Ginny, he really did, but he could barely hide the smile that was threatening to break out across his face at her ridiculous getup.

"It could be worse," Harry said, pressing his lips together into a thin line and swallowing the laughter that was threatening to erupt from his mouth.

"Worse? I'm in a poofy dress, and I'm going to meet Stori's parents in an hour. They are already not fond of me, since they had to see a picture of me _groping_ their daughter's arse splayed across the bloody front page of the Daily Prophet," Ginny snarled.

In all of his time knowing Ginny, he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear pink, much less a pink dress, much less a pink, poofy dress that made her look like an elaborate wedding cake. Ginny's hair was twisted up into a neat bun, some short hairs at the front escaping and framing her face. The dress was strapless, and it was tight around her chest, squishing her boobs together, and then it flared out from there, the top a shiny, psychedelic, cotton candy pink, and the skirt was layer upon layer of pale pink, soft and almost transparent material, the very top layer was dusted with sparkles. The dress cut off just above her knees. On her feet were black, six inch stilettos, that were currently clicking sharply against the hardwood floors as she paced back and forth in front of her full length mirror.

"They could have been nudes," Harry pointed out, scrutinising the layered dress.

"We are burning this when we get back, and make sure we have Firewhisky...I have a feeling I'm going to need it," Ginny grumbled, glaring down at her dress, taking up handfuls of light materials and moving it about until she dropped it angrily.

"Well, bright side, at least they...want...to meet you," Harry said, wincing, and pursing his lips as he watched Ginny spin around to look at the back of herself, nose scrunched up in disgust.

Astoria had sent the dress the previous night, and insisted that Ginny wear it today. The ginger haired girl had gaped at it, and had immediately asked Harry if Astoria hadn't made a mistake by accidentally sending her kindling for their fireplace instead of the dress. Ginny had plenty of dresses, but clearly Astoria didn't think they were _appropriate_ so to speak for lunch with her parents.

"This is really not how I expected to meet my girlfriend's parents...how did they even get those pictures? They would have to have been taken from inside our flat...you know that?" Harry frowned, remembering the picture that had been shot into Ginny's room. Both girls were in oversized t-shirts, Ginny in a black lace panty, and Astoria wearing a pair of grey shorts. Whoever had taken it, had been trespassing.

"How did Stori's Dad take it?"

"Furious. Well, most of his anger was directed at the Prophet. His main concern with Stori was why she didn't tell him sooner, so he didn't have to put up with smiling and making nice with, 'those pompous arseholes who had a rod up theirs."

Harry didn't need to ask how Molly or Arthur had taken it, since Ginny had received a howler before she had even seen the paper that day. Molly had been _livid_ that Ginny hadn't told her about Astoria, Arthur's futile attempts at trying to calm his wife down could be heard in the background. Molly didn't even care that they were both girls, she was more upset that she had to find out from the ' _front page of the Daily Prophet!'_

"I'll figure out how they got that picture, Gin. Don't worry. Now be on your best behaviour, and don't forget your table manners." Harry scooted forward and off of the bed, pulling Ginny in for a tight hug, the fabric of the skirt making a slight crinkling nose as she pressed against him.

Ginny stepped out of his embrace, picking the pocket watch portkey off of Harry's bedside table, and walking over to his armchair where she had left her coat and purse.

"I am always on my best behaviour, Potter," Ginny grinned devilishly, winking at Harry before grabbing her plain, black purse, and shrugging on her coat.

 _That's what I'm afraid of,_ Harry thought as Ginny disappeared as the portkey kicked into action with a loud sucking noise. _That's what I'm afraid of._

* * *

Hermione admitted to herself, that in hindsight, she may have overreacted. Maybe. Just a smidge.

In her defense, she had enlisted three other people in her madness, and if they hadn't protested it really couldn't be _that_ bad. Right?

 **Flashback**

 _Hermione languidly walked into her living room, tucking her curls behind her ears. She saw Ron sleeping away, soft snores were whistling out of his mouth, and she found herself smiling at him fondly._

 _Odd, she thought as she stared at the paper unrolled on the coffee table. Ron must have looked at it, Hermione determined._

 _Her blood ran cold and she froze. Hermione's breath caught in her throat, and it felt like her airway was constricting painfully, as if someone was screwing it shut._

 _Harry and Ginny weren't together._

 _Hermione picked up the paper with shaking, trembling hands._

 _"What does this mean?" She asked herself aloud, rhetorically. A deep voice that came from right by her ear, their warm breath tickling her ear made her jump out of her skin._

 _"You can fuck Potter all you want?"_

 _She spun around, paper in one hand and her wand out from where she tucked it in the waistband of her pants and she had it pressed firmly into the dark skinned wizard's throat._

 _She had been so consumed in her thoughts and stunned that she hadn't heard him come up behind her._

 _Hermione breathed in deeply, feeling her chest expand, her heart pounding, and she lowered her wand._

 _"Easy Princess," Blaise said softly, hands raised in surrender._

 _All of the emotions that were hitting her all at once, consuming her, burning through her veins, and in a panic she did the first thing that came to her mind. She ran._

The running hadn't been as abrupt as the thought had popped into her mind. She had woken up Ron, and even though he kept asking her if she was alright as she ushered him towards the floo, she reasoned that Molly was probably freaking out and that he should go to the Burrow. Ron reluctantly left after hugging Hermione tightly and saying if she needed him then she knew how to get a hold of him.

As he disappeared in a swirl of green flames, Theo and Draco tiredly traipsed into the living room. After seeing Hermione's vulnerable and shocked expression, and saw how she was clinging to herself, both boys automatically knew something was up.

Not even an hour later all four of them had packed a bag, Hermione fishing her old beaded bag out of her closet, feeling as desperate as she did when they were on the run. This time she wasn't entirely sure what she was running from, all she knew was that it was a deep, primal instinct that was pumping through her veins. She used an undetectable extension on the boy's bags, and soon they were in the thick bustle of muggle London.

It wasn't long before they had all acquired ferry tickets to cross the English Channel.

The boys frowned at all the foreign terms, and things, so Hermione had done all the talking and paid for everything. They all insisted they would pay her back once they were able.

What they had done didn't occur to Hermione until they were in a hotel in the middle of Wizarding Paris. It was fairly fancy and posh, Hermione learned after Theo translated for her, (Draco was talking to one of the male receptionists who was wearing finely made deep red and royal purple robes in fluent french with no accent), that their families all had special accounts, and any charges they would incur would simply be added to their ongoing accounts.

As she was walking through the lobby, seeing all the fine upholstery, the ornate rugs, the massive chandelier was slightly reminiscent of the one in Malfoy Manor, yet somehow this one was more elaborate, the diamonds hanging from it glinting and shimmering as they caught the light.

It was only then, that it occurred to Hermione that not only had she run away from London to escape her feelings and what the possibility of Ginny dating the younger Greengrass meant, she had run as quickly as she could.

Somehow, the dormant thought that she kept buried surged to the forefront of her mind as she gazed upon that picture; it was so intense that it caused her to panic and to run away. The ugly thought that even if Harry wasn't with Ginny, he still wouldn't want her. She couldn't bear the thought that the possibility of her getting rejected was made more real after finding out about him and Ginny; it felt like a gaping wound in her chest that had finally scabbed over was ripped right open again.

 _What have I done?_ Hermione thought to herself as she numbly followed Theo towards the grand staircase.


	5. Doubt

**Hello my dears! Have you missed me? ;)**

 **Sorry it's been awhile, my muse was fussing and not up for playing when it came to this story. Not even a little bit.**

 **I know Hermione running away in the last was a bit...extreme? She was freaking out and it was not her best moment, that's for sure. Sometimes people just need to get away though, and that's what she did. She got away. Far away.**

 **Thank you all for all your lovely reviews and support! You make me so happy *hearts***

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 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.**

* * *

 _And now all this time_

 _Is passing by_

 _But I still can't seem to tell you why_

 _It hurts me every time I see you_

 _Realize how much I need you_

 _I hate you I love you_

* * *

Harry didn't know what to do with himself since Ginny was round Astoria's flat for the day: lunch had gone well and Ginny had charmed Astoria's parents, somehow she really had managed to be on her best behaviour.

Now that the two witches had Hyperion Greengrass's approval they had made two public appearances in as many days. Ginny didn't care one bit about the Prophet or what anyone else thought, and she flipped the cameramen the bird as she happily linked arms with her girlfriend.

Harry was happy for them, wholeheartedly, but he also felt a sharp pang as he thought about how he may never be able to have the one person he wanted.

Which is why he found himself walking through Remus's fireplace, coat thrown over his arm in case he needed it, hands tucked into his pockets; the green flames licking at his boot heels, disappearing a moment later.

After the war Sirius had moved in with Remus because neither of them wanted to be alone-Tonks had died after she was caught under a collapsed wall during the Battle of Hogwarts-and Sirius decided to help Remus raise Teddy.

Sirius still visited Grimmauld Place from time to time, but mainly it was to taunt his Mother's portrait. For the most part it was left abandoned-since he had brought Kreacher with him to Lupin Den, " _it's what Regulus would've wanted...even if Kreacher is still miserable most days,"_ Sirius had told Harry.

Sirius and Remus were sitting on the couch in the living room, watching as Teddy waddled around, hair colour ever changing. As soon as the toddler's eyes caught a hold of Harry, his hair fixed on raven and he happily ran over to Harry on his chubby legs.

"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed jovially, as Harry squatted down and easily caught the ball of energy that jumped into his arms, giggling as he grasped ahold of Harry.

"Thought I'd pop in for a little visit since it's been a week and a half since I've seen either of you," Harry said, grinning as he looked at Teddy. One of the best things to have come out of the war.

"Dromeda was here earlier, it's like everyone wanted to come for a visit," Sirius smirked, getting up and crossing the room over to Harry and Teddy.

Sirius was wearing black leather pants, black lace up boots with the laces all undone, and casual scarlet robes, that were unfastened and left his inked and scarred chest on full display. Everytime he looked Harry swore he saw a new tattoo on his Godfather that he hadn't noticed before.

"Thanks for coming, Harry," Remus grinned broadly, joining the other wizards, he was dressed more casually in a navy blue jumper, beige trousers and black and teal striped socks.

"How you been, Remus?" Harry asked, expressing genuine concern as his brow creased slightly.

Remus tended to bottle up his emotions and not express them until they simply could not be contained anymore and they exploded out of him. Sirius was similar in the way that he wouldn't express his deep feelings, but he would adamantly inform you of all the trivial inconveniences and sorrows of his everyday life; the shower was too cold, or how there were no coffee beans left in the house so he had to go and get more coffee.

"I'm alright, really, I am, Harry," Remus smiled weakly, opening his arms and gesturing towards Teddy. Harry shot Remus a look that said he wasn't convinced that the older wizard was 'alright' at all, before grunting slightly as he passed the toddler over to his Father.

Remus tiredly trudged out of the room, Teddy is his grasp, speaking to his son happily. Despite his fatigue, just spending time with his son brought him great joy.

"Hey Harry," Sirius said, frowning as he stared at a pack of cigarettes that he had pulled from his robe pocket.

"Sirius," Harry took a step in the older wizard's direction.

"Have you heard from Hermione in the last few days?" Sirius pursed his lips, taking a cigarette out of the packet, pocketing the white box that had black and red accents adorning it.

"No...why?" Harry frowned deeply.

"I tried to floo her since she's my-" Sirius swallowed the rest of what he was going to say, quickly. Crossing his arms over his chest and averting his gaze. His cigarette held between two fingers, abandoned.

"Your what?" Harry demanded, cocking an eyebrow and taking another step forward.

"She's my smoking buddy," Sirius said begrudgingly, dropping his hands to his sides.

"Hermione doesn't smoke," Harry said numbly, the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, but the doubt was already in the forefront of his mind-stabbing and needling its way through his brain, squirming and making a nest in the dead centre. Pulsing and spreading, thrumming through his brain.

The truth was he _didn't_ know if she smoked or not. That's when a scary thought burned a way through his brain, making his gut twist and tie itself into a massive knot that only seemed to press on his insides. He _didn't_ know Hermione anymore, she wasn't _his_ anymore. He didn't know her better than anyone. Not anymore. The very idea terrified him.

Sirius tilted his head at Harry curiously then, "Harry...when is the last time you talked to Hermione. Not sat across from her during a Weasley Sunday lunch and made pleasant small talk. When was the last time you _really_ talked to her."

Harry didn't have an answer. Not right away that is. _When is the last time I properly talked to Hermione?_ Harry asked himself.

Harry's silence seemed to be answer enough for Sirius, who pursed his lips and nodded slowly, studying Harry as if he was a new challenge or puzzle that he had to solve.

"Hermione's been my smoking buddy for months, Harry," Sirius said softly, closing the rest of the distance between them and placing a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder-squeezing it tightly in comfort.

Harry's head felt fuzzy, as if it had been stuffed full of cotton.

Then he recalled something that Sirius had said earlier and he looked up at his godfather and said, "wait. You can't get ahold of Hermione?"

* * *

 _Where could she be?_ Harry thought worriedly.

Somehow he had managed to floo to the Leaky Cauldron, and Hannah-the delightful witch she was-took one look at him and poured him a pint of butterbeer.

He hadn't known where to go, and for some reason the Leaky had been the first thing that came to mind.

So there he was-at the bar-glumly staring at his glass, eyes locked on a bead of condensation that was racing down the side.

Low chatter was coming from different sections in the pub, it was still fairly early in the day so most people weren't drinking yet.

The last thing he expected was for a firm, broad hand to clap him on the shoulder and cheerily go, "Harry!"

Harry started, his hand moving automatically for his wand that was in his jacket pocket. He froze in his attempt however when he saw the bright blue eyes, freckled face and ginger hair. It was a face he had seen at some of the worst, and best times of his life. It was the face of his best mate.

"Ron," Harry smiled weakly. It had been almost a week since Harry had seen the ginger, but no matter how much time they spent apart, it was like they had just seen each other. Everything just fell back into place, it just _fit._

"It's been a few days, but I guess everyone's been busy since Ginny and Astoria came out about their relationship properly," Ron chuckled softly.

"Ah, right, I haven't had a chance to ask you how you felt about it," Harry said, turning to the right on his barstool to face Ron, the seat creaked slightly but Harry ignored it.

"Well, doesn't really matter how I feel about it-" Ron laughed, more heartily this time, "-Ginny was going to date her whether I approved or not."

"True," Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. He raised his left hand next to his glass, and his index finger hovered over it, and he hit Ron's shoulder playfully.

"I did think you and Gin were together, but she informed me, whilst cackling for your information, that, ' _no Harry's heart has already been stolen away by another, and so has mine'_." Ron raised an eyebrow. Harry's smile froze on his face.

Ron leaned forward and asked, "Ginny wouldn't tell me who you'd fallen for, don't worry. Though whenever you want to tell me, I'm here."

Relief coursed through his veins, how Ginny knew he didn't have the foggiest idea. Though she was quite smart and she had probably put two and two together. Somehow he just wasn't ready to tell Ron just yet, "thanks mate."

A comfortable, familiar silence rolled over them, and Harry picked up his butterbeer and took a long swig, putting the heavy glass back down on the counter whilst his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick away the froth that had gathered on his upper lip.

Ron sighed heavily and closed his eyes, "man, I wish Hermione and the guys were back already-" Ron's eyes snapped open and he pursed his lips before saying lowly, "-don't tell anyone I said this, but I actually enjoy those gits company."

"What?" Harry asked dumbly.

"The morning that Ginny and Astoria's picture was splayed across the front of the Prophet, Hermione, Theo, Draco and Blaise packed up in a hurry and left town. Not sure where they went, though Hermione did floo me to tell me they had arrived safely."

"Hermione left the country?"

"Dunno bout country, all I know is she was really panicked, not thinking straight, and before I could get a proper answer out of her she was out the door, the Slytherins at her heels," Ron shrugged cavalierly.

The doubt was back. This time it didn't creep or crawl, but it smacked him right across the face and coursed heavily through his veins. Hermione had left and she hadn't even said goodbye. Perhaps their relationship was more damaged than he had originally feared. Irrevocably damaged. Harry couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that he had lost Hermione, for _good._


	6. Decisions

**Hello my darlings!**

 **I know this chapter is a bit short, the shortest so far actually, but I thought this scene deserved its own chapter.**

 **Things are going to 'pick up' so to speak after this, this is the turning point for this ficlet that was never meant to be more than a oneshot. I do hope you enjoy this chapter :)**

 **My dear friend laisvega has written her own Harmony, based on the same song that this fic is based on. We made an agreement to write angsty Harmony fics together and she posted the oneshot yesterday! It will give you all the heartbreak, angst and feels. Just search for her username and it'll be the first fic in the list :D**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)**

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 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.**

 **For Dis and Lais xxx my lovely, lovely friends.**

* * *

The silk sheets caressed her skin almost lovingly as she sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

The sky was still an inky blue, tinged with a pale yellow and light blue as the sun started to reach its fingers upwards.

She stared out of the open double doors that led to the wide and comfy balcony-that had a plush lounge chair and short, small table.

Sighing she slipped out of the bed, bare feet padding across the cool marble, tucking her unruly, bed-mussed curls back from her face and behind her ears.

She paused in the doorway to the balcony, hugging herself and breathing out heavily through her nostrils.

 _What have I done?_ She asked herself for the umpteenth time since they had arrived in France.

So far they hadn't left the hotel room, lazing the days away with room service, playful banter and silent stretches of time where they simply revelled in each other's presence.

Hermione found herself squished between three Slytherins a night or two as they cradled her in their slumber-as if she was precious and needed protection.

Nine days. It had been nine days since she had run away in a panic.

She avoided the Prophet like the plague, the hotel delivered several Wizarding papers in the morning, and the boys read them all in rotation; they were fluent in all the languages, and a few times she had caught them conversing in the various languages as they were immersed in their own papers, easily translating from one to the next. Draco would be speaking French and Theo would respond in Italian. It was possibly one of the most bizarre scenes she had ever witnessed.

Hermione heard a rustling noise behind her, and the soft sound of soft footfalls moving across the stone towards her.

She stiffened a fraction when she felt their strong chin come to rest on her shoulder, waiting for them to identify themselves.

"What are you thinking about so early in the morning, Hermione?" the deep voice murmured in her ear, their face tilted now so part of their cheek was brushing against her skin.

 _Draco,_ Hermione thought, relaxing.

"Was this a mistake?" Hermione asked after a few moments, her voice barely a whisper, almost inaudible despite their proximity.

"Depends...does it feel like a mistake to you?" Draco inquired, wrapping his arms around her midsection and hugging her loosely.

"I _ran_ away."

"If I was in love with Potter I would run away too," Draco said, a teasing hint to his tone.

"Not funny."

"Do you want to go back?" Draco questioned her then, a seriousness permeating from his voice to their surroundings. He relinquished his hold on her and then walked around to her front, looking her directly in the eye. Repeating his question, "do you want to go back? We'll go back with you if you want to...or we'll stay here if you're not ready yet."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip then, unsure, mind racing, heart pumping, cold morning air washing over her skin-causing it to sting a little with how it nipped at her.

"You guys can stay if you want, all of your vaults are still seized," Hermione said weakly, and Draco shot her a droll look.

"Granger. You saw the letter I got from Kingsley-the Minister himself-a couple days ago...though he could be lying and simply saying that to get us to come back to England...but they are releasing our vaults back to us over the next couple weeks," Draco said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione breathed in deeply, not sure what to say.

Draco exhaled heavily, taking a step closer to Hermione so they were mere inches apart, and said with genuity, "don't worry about us, Hermione. We'll be fine, but what do you want to do?"

Hermione's teeth caught of a small piece of skin where her chapped lips were peeling, and she clenched her eyes shut. Focusing on her breathing. _In, out, in, out._ A gentle breeze blew through her curls then, and she wriggled her toes against the stone floor, as if it would ground her to help her make her decision.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, and Draco smiled as he saw the clear determination and firm decision in the dim light of the room, "I'll floo and tell the concierge that we'll be checking out today."

Draco walked away from her, and she was left with the sight of the rising sun spreading across the horizon. She had no idea what awaited her when she returned to England, all she knew was that she had to go back. She had to face her inner demons and her fears. She had to go back, and face the repercussions for fleeing the country with such haste. _I'm not going to run away anymore,_ Hermione thought with a resolve of steel. It was time to gather her courage and face whatever awaited her return.


	7. Miserable Day

**Hello my dears! So I've been writing up a storm this weekend (even though I'm meant to be on a writing hiatus). I'm trying to get ahead in some of my fics so I can post chapters when I don't have as much time to write (because school has started back).**

 **Basically this is the second last chapter in this fic. Which does make me a wee bit sad. Either way, I just have the Epilogue to write and then it'll be done. Which means there will be nine chapters in total.**

 **I'm posting the last two chapters tonight, and I hope you'll enjoy them! I have a lot of fun writing them, and I think the story has been wrapped up pretty neatly. If you guys want to see anything in particular for the Epilogue then I'll be sure to try and put it in.**

 **Thank you all so much for your support and how much love you've given this story. Seriously, thank you. I love you all. (100 FOLLOWERS?! OMG.)**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)**

 **My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me. Also none of the lyrics I've used from the song 'I Hate U I Love U' by Gnash ft. Olivia O'Brien**

* * *

Miserable. It was a _miserable_ day. As September began the days got colder-the wind chill alone could cut straight to the bone-and today was no exception, fallen leaves that had been trod on by hurried feet in the last few days were sticking to the pavement. The rain was pouring heavily, almost white due to how dense it was.

Harry's jeans were soaked, and he was thankful for the permanent water repellent spell he had cast on his jacket and his glasses; the cold was chilling and seemed to wrap around his bones.

 _I shouldn't have fucking agreed to go grocery shopping,_ Harry sighed internally, hands tucked into his jacket pockets and hugging his arms to his sides. They had run out of food, and there was nothing left in the house to eat.

An hour. That's how long it took him to get to the store, find everything they needed for a few days and then hurry back to the flat.

His hair was dripping wet when he got back inside his flat. It was dead silent, his wet footsteps the only sound rebounding through the flat-Astoria and Ginny had most likely gone out.

Grunting he kicked off his boots by the door, running a hand through his wet locks, shaking his head out of habit-not caring that water drops were flying across the room around him.

He sighed as he made his way to the kitchen, finding a note on the counter.

 _Harry,_

 _Stori and I have gone to Malfoy Manor. Apparently Narcissa has invited a few people over to celebrate their vaults being released and their assets being unfrozen. Daphne has been trying to get Draco's attention for years apparently. He can't be that bad if Hermione is friends with him. Speaking of Hermione, I heard that she's back in the country from Ron this morning._

Harry's heart squeezed painfully in his chest, it felt like his throat was twisting shut, and he forgot all about how wet he was, how irritated he had been mere moments ago. _I have to tell her,_ Harry told himself, he should have told her months ago, but he needed to do it now. He was still terrified, but if she was to stop talking to him completely it wouldn't be much different from their current situation.

 _Tomorrow_ , he determined with a resolve of steel. That way he would be able to gather his wits about him, get some flowers or something. Or would flowers be too weird? What if she hated the kind of flowers he brought her? _No!_ He practically screamed internally, he couldn't keep second guessing himself, otherwise it would be left open ended. It would never be finished. He would always ask himself, what if?

She was all he could think of as he packed away the groceries-he had completely forgotten about the rest of Ginny's note.

He remembered their kiss and how she had tasted like vanilla and honey, and how it had felt to be pressed against her.

Harry had been such an idiot not to go straight back in there and tell her how he felt. Instead he had convinced himself that it was just that they were alone, that she wouldn't have kissed him back if there were other options.

He threw the empty plastic bags in the garbage, and then he shrugged his jacket off-dropping it on the ground behind him. Clenching his jaw, he leaned forward, hands spreading along the length of the countertop, stopping when they were on either side of them and he gripped the edge tightly. His knuckles turning white. He had really been an idiot.

 _Even if she did like you who says she still does, she probably moved on, for her it was probably more of a minor infatuation if that._ Harry cursed himself softly aloud. The seeds of doubt were planting themselves once more whilst he stood there, mind idle, not doing anything to distract himself.

 _Fuck it-_ Harry thought, but then his thoughts were harshly interrupted by the bright, musical chime of his doorbell. _Who would be at the door? Everyone I know normally just uses the floo._ Harry was extremely perplexed, but he began to walk towards the door, pausing to pull off his socks-some water had gotten into his boots and soaked through his socks, making it squishy and uncomfortable as he walked. Socks in hand he headed toward the door, in time to hear a soft rapping across the wood. He dropped the socks on top of his boots, and then raked his still wet hair back from his forehead-causing it stick up at weird angles.

Harry unlocked the door and then opened it, not entirely sure who he was expecting, but when the door swung wide open to reveal his visitor it was the last person he would have expected. _She_ was standing there, dripping wet, her raincoat unbuttoned to reveal a warm, navy blue jumper underneath, she was wearing black jeans and black ankle boots. Her eyes widened a fraction, as if she hadn't actually been expecting someone to answer.

There's a small puddle forming around her feet, and then her features relaxed, and she smiled softly. Hermione is smiling at him, and the knot that had woven itself together in his stomach simply untied itself.

She cocked her head to the side, her expression _almost_ playful and she said, "well, are you going to stand there gawking at me, or are you going to let me in?"


	8. Light In The Gloom

**Hello again! It's been like five minutes lol, but I just finished the last little touches to the chapter so I thought I may as well post it. I'm going to try and work on the Epilogue as soon as I can, but I'm not entirely sure when I'll post it. So look forward to that!**

 **All of my work is unbeta'd at the moment, so if you notice any mistakes please feel free to PM me and let me know. Thank you :D**

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)**

 **My tumblr: indiebluecrown. tumblr. com**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line belongs to me. I added in the lyrics of 'Count Me In' by Early Winters at the end, so I just want to have a disclaimer saying that it doesn't belong to me either. (It's one of my favourite songs currently.)**

 **For Lais and Dis xxx you darling, darling friends of mine.**

* * *

Everything just fell back into place, like it _used_ to be before all this mess.

"I'll make some tea, you go get changed out of those wet clothes," Hermione said with a tight smile, and she averted her eyes quickly as she hurried towards the kitchen. She did a bit of fumbling about since she didn't know where everything was.

Well, almost like it used to be.

Ten minutes later, Harry's hair was still a bit damp since he had run some shampoo through it quickly-washing it for the first time in two days. His chilled bones had warmed from his scalding hot shower, and he had tipped his head back into the spray as the shampoo rinsed from his hair and the soap ran off his body.

Now he was dressed in a pair of black, loose, cotton pyjama pants, and and his old Quidditch Jersey from school, his feet bare and his glasses still a little fogged from the steam in the bathroom. Nervously he had brushed his teeth-twice.

Hermione was staring out of one of the living room windows, a cup of tea in her hand, but she made no movement to drink it. Harry paused in the corridor, still in the shadows, and he simply watched her. This may be the last time she would ever speak to him, and he wanted to remember her like this, just like this.

Inhaling deeply Harry stepped out into the light, anxiously pushing his glasses backwards on the bridge of his nose.

Hermione sensed him then and she turned around, a gentle, easy smile on her face, but her eyes were worried, filled with uneasiness. Which of course worried him.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Harry asked, gesturing to the cream sofa and she padded over to it, sinking into it and then she put her cup of tea on the dark chocolate coloured coffee table. Harry watched the steam curl and drift off of the milky brown liquid, but he shook his head and returned his attention to Hermione.

He noted that she had taken off her boots, coat and jumper. All that she was left in now was a white camisole, her black jeans. Her wild curls were pulled back into a high ponytail, going in all kinds of different directions, a few had sprung free and were now framing her face.

"Why wouldn't I be-" Hermione frowned, but then she cut herself off as she understood perfectly, crystal clear, "-because I'm here."

"Yea," Harry said dumbly, biting his lip.

"I wanted to tell you something-"

"I want to tell you something," Harry interjected, "is it alright if I go first?"

Hermione's brow puckered but she nodded nonetheless, twisting so she was facing him entirely. His eyes glanced at how she was wringing her hands in her lap, _she's nervous_ , he concluded. _Why?_

 _Right, okay, just say that you've wanted to tell her this for a very long time, and she's brilliant and that you think she's the most amazing person ever. Simple. Not simple. This is the farthest thing from simple. Damn. Okay. Just breathe and then tell her how you feel._ Harry was getting caught up in his head again, so he dug his fingers into his palm and took a deep breath.

"I'm in love with you," Harry blurted out, _well that's nowhere near what I wanted to fucking say, thank you mouth for mucking that up so badly._ It wasn't anything like what was going through his head, it wasn't anything like what he had imagined this moment to be in the countless times he had played this scenario in his head. Hermione's eyes widened exponentially, her mouth parted and she simply looked dumbstruck.

Harry didn't know what to do so he just kept talking, "I mean. I'm an idiot, and I should have told you months ago and I am rambling, and this is not going like how I imagined it would. I just. You just. You shine. You shine brightly, and I'm always drawn to you in a room, no matter how many people are there. You are the light that shines through the doom and gloom. You are beautiful and smart and talented. You're so much better than I am, and you deserve to be happy, you deserve someone like Nott to make you happy. You deserve-" Harry didn't know where he was going with that train of thought, most likely more things that he hadn't planned on saying-but he was cut off abruptly. Hermione leapt forward, her arms around his neck and her lips crashed against his. It was shocking and their teeth hit each other, but it wasn't enough for him to let her go. _Godric,_ he was never going to let her go. Never.

Harry's arms wrapped around her waist, and her shirt was riding up slightly so his fingers met bare skin. Her beautiful mocha skin.

Her fingers were buried in his hair, and she was smiling into their kiss, it was soft and it felt like home. A burst of warmth was building in his stomach, his body relaxed and sagged with relief. He slowly laid back on the couch, and she climbed in his lap, her knees on either side of his hips.

Then they were laughing breathily and everything just fit. It just fit.

"I love you too, you messy haired idiot," Hermione laughed, but she began to cry happily at the same time so it was a bit watery.

A crack of thunder engulfed them then, and made both of them jump, Harry instinctively pulled Hermione closer, and she buried her face in the side of his neck, her arms cradling his head. Her breath was warm against his skin, and he could feel her chest rising and falling against his. He was drawing nonsensical patterns on the exposed skin on her back-moving into the dip from the small of her back and back up again.

It was where he belonged, with _her_ , right here with her. Always with her.

The thunder rolled and boomed, and the lightning violently flashed as it shot towards the ground, and all he could do was hug her. Hug her and take in her scent.

 _She still tasted like vanilla and honey._

* * *

 _Half a mile out, knee deep in, hooked on a dream that is reelin' me in. Oh is this how we begin? Flowers on fire in black and white film._

 _Curtains of rain on the pier, watching the skirt of the day disappear. Caught like a wheel in a groove. I'm crankin' it big but it don't wanna move._

 _Count me in, oooh, count me in, oooh, count me in._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading this story. Really. Thank you.**

 **Love,**

 **Indieblue xxx**

 **Sunday, September 11th, 2016.**

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 **November 24th, 2016 - This is a just a little note to let you all know that I kind of really like how open ended this was, whilst having some closure, so I don't think I'll write an Epilogue since I don't think it would do this justice. Again, thank you all so much for reading this story *hearts***


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